Disclaimer: Characters belong to JK Rowling and the song belongs to; Superchick. I own neither Harry Potter nor Courage… but you guys already know that(:

Okay… this is nothing like what I normally write! This is not smut nor is it funny! This is more serious than what you guys are used to reading from me (even if you do read my actual stories and not just one-shots) – in all honesty this is pretty depressing, but it's pretty personal to me. I heard this song by accidentally clicking on the wrong song on youtube and I started crying within just the first 11 words… I know I should be working on my other stories, but I just had to write this one. Anorexia is a serious condition. I don't mean to offend any of you –like I said, this is personal to me…

Start 2-8-12 at 1125pm

Courage

I told another lie today

And I got through this day;

No one saw through my games.

I know the right words to say,

Like; "I don't feel well," "I ate before I came,"

Then someone tells me how good I look

And for a moment, for a moment I am happy.

But when I'm alone, no one hears me cry.

Walking through the halls of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, nobody noticed anything odd about Hermione Granger; the messiness of the chestnut curls always hid her face from view and she was always too pale from spending all of her days in the library. The way that the black robes hung off of her body, giving them a view of the white sleeve from her school shirt was nothing new to them either, she always wore baggy robes – something she got used to from being best friends with only boys. No – there was nothing odd about this sight at all. Hermione Granger always sulked down the halls wearing robes that looked about ready to fall off her body and her face was always ghostly pale, her eyes were always sunken in – there was nothing unusual about it at all.

"Have some potatoes," Ron greeted, piling the boiled starch onto a plate once Hermione sat down.

Staring down at the food as if it disgusted her, Hermione shook her head; "No thanks," she politely declined it.

Looking over at one of his best friends, Harry saw the way that Ron just shrugged his shoulders and began to eat the helping he just tried to force on Hermione. "How about some shepherd's pie, then?"

Shaking her head once more, Hermione grabbed a goblet and filled with water. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you feeling alright?" Harry suddenly asked her, reaching out to touch her forehead. "I noticed you didn't eat breakfast or lunch either, today."

Plastering a smile on her face, Hermione put her goblet back down then stood up; "I'm tired," she told him. "You know how I get when I force myself to work on too many assignments."

"Right," he smiled; content with her answer. "You should go get some rest then Hermione; you are beginning to look a little pale."

Bidding the two boys goodnight as they immersed themselves into another Quidditch filled conversation, Hermione started towards the common room that she shared with Draco. After Harry defeated Voldemort, Headmistress McGonagall invited everyone back to Hogwarts to finish their schooling properly. No one was surprised when they learned that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were made as head boy and head girl; they were however surprised though when Headmistress McGonagall declared that they would try something new this year and have the head boy and head girl sleeping in their own shared dormitory – to try and pursue house unity and whatnot. Seeing as how they both fought in the war on different sides, no one thought the idea was safe, but after six months of being back in school and having both the heads still alive with no new scars, the other students started to relax at the idea.

"Erised," Hermione told the smiling couple in the painting then thanked them as they opened up for her.

Lifting his head from the couch he was sitting on, Draco looked up at the head girl and he frowned. "Are you feeling alright, Granger?"

"Just tired," she told him, feigning a yawn.

"Did you eat anything?" he asked her. "You look a little pale."

Nodding her head, she plastered on the same smile she wore when she fooled Harry; "Yes I did, I just came from dinner. Why weren't you in the Great Hall?"

"Studying," he replied, holding up his book to show her the Arithmancy textbook that he had been reading before she walked in.

Nodding her head in response, she left him alone and reached her bedroom. As she stripped her clothing, Hermione smiled at the memory of what happened in her first period. She was a little late getting to class because she overslept, something that had been happening a lot lately, and she was forced to sit with Pansy Parkinson. Normally, such a seating arrangement would make her want to keel over and die, but she greeted her seating partner with a shy smile and quietly took her notes. She was shocked when Parkinson leaned over and asked her if she lost any weight. When she slowly nodded her head, Parkinson responded by cocking an eyebrow then telling her she looked good.

The thought was enough to last her for only two more classes, but then once it was lunch time she forced herself to stay away from the Great Hall, and stay in the library to work on her assignments. She knew that Parkinson didn't truly mean what she said; she was in Slytherin and her father was one of the Death Eaters killed by Hermione's own wand in the war – Parkinson was obviously only trying to mess with her mind. Not bothering to put on any more clothing, Hermione laid down in her bed wearing only her black knickers and a white tank top. She felt the tears start up again, and as used as she was to them by now, she still hated the heated feeling they left on her face as they stained her. Forgetting to silence her room this night, she allowed her tears to continue crying as her soft sobs lulled her to sleep.

I need you to know

I'm not through the night,

Some days I'm still fighting to walk towards the light.

I need you to know

That we'll be okay,

Together we can make it through another day.

Yawning, Draco finally decided to ignore the books surrounding him on the table and try to attempt to get some sleep. He missed out on most of his sixth year and all of his seventh year because of the blasted war, and he was behind everyone else, including that bloody Weasel, but he needed at least a couple of hours of sleep if he expected to stay awake during their exams. Turning out the lights in the common room, he walked up the stairs and towards his room, but stopped suddenly. Frowning as he heard the slightly familiar sounds, he walked over towards the head girl's room and found that he didn't have to press his ears to her door to recognize what she was doing. Hermione was crying.

It took only a couple of seconds before Draco sighed to himself and decided to do the right thing, which much to his dismay isn't just walking away and pretending it never happened, and he slowly opened the door. Poking his head inside, he saw that Hermione's eyes were shut, but fluttering as if she were reliving some horrid nightmare. Feeling guilty as he remembered the day at his manor, he felt obliged to wake the girl up from whatever she was reliving. It was when he got closer to the bed, however, that he gasped.

Hermione wasn't sobbing or whimpering in her sleep because of whatever she was dreaming about – she was whimpering and sobbing in her sleep because it must have pained her to have to lie on bones. Draco felt guilt flood over him as fear and panic reached his stomach; how does someone normally react to finding the brightest-witch-of-her-age in this type of position? Should he run out and get someone? Madam Pomfrey? The Headmistress? Would she even want Scarhead and the Weasel to know about this? Metal colored eyes raked the bony body with shock and confusion. What could cause this one particular witch to the point of despair where she would force her body to this breaking point?

In the beginning of the school year, he remembered being cursed with a stinging hex when he accidentally walked in on her just as she was taking off her uniform. He didn't see much, but apparently in her mind – seeing her in just her school skirt and the blue cotton bra was enough to curse him over. He remembered that particular incident because it's not something that any normal hormonal teenaged boy would be likely to forget. Lightly tanned globes poked out from the cotton bra; looking as if maybe she had it a cup too small. Her belly wasn't flat, but it didn't have a bulge either, it was perfectly toned, showing that she liked to keep in shape and spent most of her life running and eating healthily.

But now… now it seemed like maybe the body he was once lucky enough to catch a glimpse of no longer existed. Instead, it was now replaced by bones and sagging skin. The tan that she had earned from the months of Horcrux hunting was now replaced by a paleness that made even him look as equally dark as Blaise. Making sure to quietly move closer to the bed so he wouldn't wake her, Draco finally got a good look at her face; cheekbones were poking through while pale lips pressed tightly together, looking dry and almost scaly like. He remembered once comparing her cheeks to baby cheeks, the type of cheeks that obsessed and crazy aunts like to coo over and pinch, and that the puffiness beneath her eyes made her seem almost childlike, but now… now they were both gone; replaced by bones and a pale darkness.

I don't know the first time I felt unbeautiful;

The day I chose not to eat.

What I do know is how I changed my life forever.

I know I should know better.

There are days when I'm okay

And for a moment, for a moment, I find hope.

But there are days when I'm not okay

And I need your help.

So I'm letting go…

Hermione didn't know what to think when she woke up and found the head boy sitting in a chair next to her bed; his arm draped across her bed, nearly touching her, and his head hanging back with his mouth opened just a little. She looked him over and saw that he was dressed exactly as he was when she left him just the night before – in his black and green flannel pajama bottoms and a plain black t-shirt. His hair was messy and sprawled all along his face, making her want to giggle just a little bit. She would have giggled if she weren't afraid of the reason why he would be sleeping in her room… in a chair… looking as if he had been watching her throughout the night.

A loud gasp escaped her lips as she realized how she looked, and she saw Draco's sleep filled eyes open just as she pulled her comforter up around her body. "W-What the bloody hell are you doing in here?" she asked him, trying not to let him see how scared she truly was right now.

Rubbing at his eyes, Draco plainly said, "I heard you crying last night. I-I thought you were having a nightmare… about… erm… well you know… I came in here to wake you up, feeling like I owed you that much."

"Oh," she frowned. From now on, she would have to make sure to just place the silencing spell around her room before she fell asleep; no matter how tired she was, she could not forget again.

"Why?"

"What?" the question from Draco was so soft that she was sure she didn't hear him correctly.

"Why?" he repeated. "Why do you hurt yourself?"

Looking at her arms, and turning them over, she allowed him to see her wrists; "I don't hurt myself."

"You know what I mean," he snarled at her. "Why the bloody hell can I see your bones, Granger? It isn't normal to see someone's bones," he gave her a couple of minutes to answer him; giving her time to think of a response, but when she made no motion to say anything, he shifted uncomfortably in the chair, "I'll tell Potter."

For the first time in months, he saw the flames reenter the toffee colored eyes, "No," she huffed out. It sounded like she meant for it to be stern, but it came out as a weakened plea instead.

"Then tell me why."

Hermione played with a strand of her hair while avoiding his watchful gaze. She didn't understand why he cared. They were still enemies. They still hated each other. She didn't forget that he stood by and watched as she was tortured; not once jumping in to help her out, and he didn't forget that she was the one who hit his father with a slicing curse then sent him off to Azkaban. They hardly spoke, and if they did; it was mostly small talk like the night before or when they were being forced together in a class. They no longer tried to kill each other, but instead they chose to pretend like the other didn't exist. She understood his need to feel like he had to wake her up if she was having a nightmare, but she didn't get why he had to stay and nose around in her business. Why couldn't he just do what he always did? Ignore her? Or even better – why couldn't he just smirk and tell her how the world would be better off with one less hideous Mudblood?

"I don't know," she finally sighed; giving in and answering his question. Draco saw that she wasn't finished yet, and stayed silent – for which she was grateful. "I can't tell you Malfoy, because I honestly don't know why I don't allow myself to eat. Sometimes… sometimes there are days where I'll sit in the Great Hall and I'll absentmindedly pick at a piece of toast or even eat a chicken leg. Then there are days where I have enough strength to know what I'm doing and I stop myself before I can. I don't know why I don't want to eat; I just don't."

"When?" he asked her, not fully satisfied with her response, and praying that he had better luck with this question. "When did you start starving yourself?"

Hermione gave a little choked laugh which sounded more like a hoarse cough than anything else. "I-I don't know," she told him again. "Just like how I don't know why. One day I just woke up and I realized that I wasn't beautiful."

"What?"

Not noticing the widened disbelief in the boy's eyes, Hermione sadly nodded her head. "Well, I guess I've always known it, but I never really cared. I mean there was a war coming up and I had to focus on saving Harry's life, didn't I? I didn't have the time to care about how my hair was or how much makeup I wore or how much I weighed. I couldn't pay attention to those sorts of things when there was a dark wizard trying to kill my best friend."

"Gra-"

"You don't have to tell me," she told him, finally meeting his eyes for the first time and gasping at what she looked into. There were silent, glistening tears in the steel colored orbs, and it shocked her. "I know that it's dangerous," she said silently now. She meant to say that she knew she was ugly, and he didn't have to remind her, but when she saw into his eyes, she saw concern, and in that instant, she knew that that wasn't what he was going to say.

"If you know that it's dangerous, then why do you still do it?" his voice was harsh. He knew that she could see his concern, but he didn't care.

"Why do you care?" she asked him.

"Because this isn't right," he wanted to shout at her, if it weren't for the fact that she seemed so fragile that he feared any loud voices would blow her away, he would have shouted at her. "Look Granger," he told her, "I don't like you. You don't like me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to just stand by and let this go."

"Why not?" she asked him, tilting her head as if she had never seen him before. "You stood by before."

"That was different," he told her, clenching his teeth. "This. Is. Different."

"How?" she asked. "How is this different?"

"That time you were being tortured by someone else," he explained to her as if she were a child. "You were frozen and being tortured by someone else. You couldn't control what she did to you and the pain inflicted on you was caused by her. This time…" his voice faltered for a bit as he tried to shake away the memories that he preferred to not think of; "… this time, it's you who's causing the pain; you're the one in control now Granger, it's you who's hurting yourself this time."

Hermione listened to what he told her and she nodded her head. It made sense, but she didn't believe him. After all, he was a pureblooded prince. And she was a Mudblood. But as much as she didn't believe him, she knew it was true; she was the one with the wand in control now. There was nobody else holding the wand above her; it was in her hand. She was the only one who could end this torture, but did she want to end it? There were some days when she thought she wanted to, but then things would go back to normal and she realized that this was the only way she could make up for her lost teen years; this was the only way she would become beautiful enough in everyone else's minds.

"I-I…" she struggled to find the right words to say… "I don't want to stop," she told him. "I want to be beautiful."

"You were already beautiful," he shook his head. "You were the brave one, Granger; the one who didn't care what anyone else said or thought about you. I called you all sorts of horrid names, but you always just shut me down and you never let it get to your head. You were a hero once."

"Once?" she asked him. "Am I not a hero anymore?"

"No," he told her; refusing to look away from her curious eyes. "A hero is someone who doesn't fight to fit in with what they think someone else would approve of. A hero is a person who fights against all odds to do what they believe in their heart is true."

"I helped to defeat Voldemort."

Chuckling, Draco shook his head. "That's not the type of hero I'm talking about. You fought back when I told you that you were nothing but a bucktoothed-bushy haired-freak; now that was a hero. You stood tall, held your head up high, pushed the bird's nest that you call hair over your shoulder, grinned at me widely with your beaver teeth and walked right past me. Now that's a true hero, Granger. When all the other girls were fussing around with tight clothing and clown makeup, you were in the library; making sure all of your homework was done correctly; now that's a hero. You didn't succumb to the pressures of everyone else, and that Granger… is a hero."

"I can't do it alone," she told him. "I need help."

I need you to know

I'm not through the night,

Some days I'm still fighting to walk towards the light.

I need you to know

That we'll be okay,

Together we can make it through another day.

Draco had no idea what he was getting into when he agreed to help her, and apparently neither did Hermione. It seemed like putting all of the blame on him was easier for her to do than to admit she had an actual problem – even though, as he pointed out many times, she had already admitted that she had a problem. Hateful words were said and hexes were flown, but at the end of the day, Draco would tie her to a chair if he had to and force the food down her throat.

None of the other students knew what was going on, and although the professors often gave the extra hostile heads, odd looks, none of them said anything; much to the two teens' relief. Draco would watch her closely in class and it annoyed him how clueless the savior of the wizarding world and Weasley really were. Hermione would often doze off in the middle of the class or sometimes become too weak to even carry her own books, but she always brushed it off with a bug or too much stress over homework and they would just let her go. Granted, he was one of the ones to believe her in the beginning to, but there were too many signs about her now. How could her two best friends not notice this?

In the day, Draco would watch her closely in class and they would sometimes even sit together. The days that they would sit together, he would poke her to keep her awake and he made sure to replace all of her quills with sugar quills – anything to put something in her system – then he would keep a close eye on her in the Great Hall to make sure she was actually eating something. The deal was that she would sit across from where he was seated so he could see her and that she would eat at least half of everything he ate. If she didn't, then he would go directly to the headmistress.

During their breaks, he would have to follow Hermione around to make sure that she wasn't doing something, and he even had Parkinson follow her into the loo to make sure she wasn't forcing the food up. Of course, Hermione blew up at the idea of Parkinson knowing such a thing about her, but to her shock, Draco explained that Parkinson once suffered from the same disease during third year. He told her that she was cured over the holidays when her parents sent her to St. Mungos.

Their nights were filled with broken items, heated words, shouts of blame, physical attacks, and tears. Some nights, Draco would hold Hermione in his arms until the shaking stopped and she finally fell asleep, and he would remain still; watching her throughout the entire night. Then there were some nights when he would sit next to Hermione's bed and listen to her tell him how much she hated him and how this was all his fault because he was always picking on her and reminding her how ugly she was, until she finally asleep. There were even those nights when Hermione would just cry to him; begging him to allow her to keep doing what she was doing because she wasn't beautiful yet.

Hermione had her moments: one moment she's going along with everything that Draco was saying, and she was fighting this sickness, then the next moment she was giving up and fighting with Draco to just let her go. There were some days when even Draco wanted to just give up; just tell himself that if she wanted to kill herself then to just let her go, but then he would take one look at her and see the fragileness in her features and the fear in her eyes, and he would accept everything she threw at him. Pansy told him that Hermione needed someone there who cared enough to put her before themselves, and he shocked the three of them when he still insisted on being the one to take care of her.

If he didn't, then who would?

You should know you're not on your own

These secrets are walls that keep us alone

I don't know when, but I know now

Together we'll make it somehow.

Together we'll make it somehow.

"Why do you care so much?" Hermione asked him one night as they both sat on her bed.

Looking up from the book that he was trying to force to dance, Draco was shocked at her question. She asked him that only once before; the morning that he made it known he was going to help her. "Someone has to."

Draco watched as Hermione struggled with her thoughts before looking back up at him; "Tell the truth, Malfoy."

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and continued to stare at her. "I feel like I owe you this much," he admitted. "Like you like to remind me so much, I was one of the ones who rubbed it in your face that you didn't care about your looks as much as the other girls did. I feel like this is partially my fault, and I stood on the sidelines too many times watching you get hurt. Too many times, I was one of the ones hurting you."

"Do you love me?" she asked him with a frown.

Laughing at the question, Draco shook his head; "Merlin, no."

"Good," she told him, flashing a smile that Draco hadn't seen from her in a while. "I don't love you either."

"Then why the bloody hell would you ask such a question?"

She seemed to think for a while before saying, "I don't think I like you that much at all," she told him honestly. "I appreciate you helping me, and I know that I'm not the best company, but you haven't given up on me. I respect you now, but I don't like you much. I think that it helps me to know you're helping me because you feel guilty about our past, rather than have you helping me because you're in love with me all of a sudden."

Draco thought about her answer and it shocked him. As much as it shocked him though, he found himself immensely relieved with what she was saying, and he agreed with it. "Good," he told her. "It's mutual then. As long as we both still hate each other, we'll continue getting along just fine."

Hermione turned back to the essay she was trying to write for potions, and Draco watched her. A month has passed since he found out her secret and it disappointed him to see that there wasn't a huge difference in her; her bones still showed just a little and she still hardly got any sleep. Her skin was still pale and her eyes were still darkened from her nightly crying sessions, and what annoyed him the most was that her friends still didn't catch on to anything. He was her enemy. He hated her, and she hated him; yet he was the one helping her through this.

"You should hang out with Potter and Weasley," he said suddenly. Seeing the surprise in Hermione's face, he was surprised as well. Where the hell did that come from? "I mean, you shouldn't be alone in this."

"I'm not alone," she shrugged her shoulders. "I have you and Parkinson."

"You should be with people who care about you," he clarified. "I mean, Pansy and I are alright for now, but you don't have any friends with you. You should have your friends, people that you love and trust."

Darkness took over Hermione's face and she started to cry a little. "I-I can't," she shook her head. "They would hate me."

"I'm sure they wouldn't," he shook his head.

"You don't understand. I'm the perfect one," she told him. "I'm the levelheaded one who would never do anything so stupid. I'm the one who has all the answers, the one who never gets scared-"

"What are you scared of?" he asked; interrupting her ramble.

"Of dying."

Now for someone who jumped into the middle of a battle knowing that she would be targeted first because the bad guys were killing people with her blood for fun, being scared of dying was a silly thing. Nobody asked Hermione to join the war. Nobody told her to join Harry on his crazy adventures that would most likely end in death. No one told her that she should skip school in her seventh year to go hunting for Horcruxes, and no one told her to deny telling Bellatrix what she wanted to know while she was being tortured. It wasn't as if anyone forced Hermione to greet death every week from when she was only eleven years old, she always just did it on her own; because it was the right thing to do.

So when she admitted that she was scared of dying, Draco didn't know how to respond. He didn't know how to comfort her or what he was supposed to do in a situation like this. He wanted to run out and get her friends, but he knew that she wanted to keep this a secret from them. Because this is what she did; she kept secrets to prevent anyone else from getting hurt. Draco would never admit it to her or to anyone else, but he was scared as well. He was scared of what would have happened to her if she remembered the silencing spell that one night, he was scared of what would happen to her once they left school and he was no longer there to threaten her into eating. Draco was never scared of anything before; not even when Voldemort forced him to become a Death Eater, but he was scared of Hermione dying.

It seemed like they finally had something in common.

"You aren't going to die," he finally said, not liking the long silence after her spoken fear. "I won't let you."

"What if you get tired of my tantrums?" she asked him; her voice quivering and low. "Hmm? What if one day, you decide that you paid your due and you no longer care what happens to me? I'm not strong enough to beat this thing on my own."

He knew how much strength and bravery it took for Hermione to admit that much, and he silently cheered internally at her progress so far, "I won't," he promised her, then with a smirk; "I mean, I have seven years to make up for, don't I?"

Seeing the gentle smirk on Draco's face, Hermione allowed herself to relax a little bit, "I'll tell them one day," she promised him, "But not now. I want to be stronger first; to show them that I really am trying to get better and that I'm showing progress."

Nodding his head, Draco sighed. "I'm not saying you'll be back to normal next month, Granger, this sort of thing takes time. I wish you had someone with you though."

"Silly Malfoy," she giggled. "I told you; I'm not alone. Even if you don't like me, you aren't letting me hurt myself, are you? I have you to help me through this. And Parkinson gives me some advice on most days. She told me I could talk to her if I needed someone to talk to –someone with experience."

"Are you sure? I'm not much company."

"You're keeping me alive," she smiled at him. "And as much as I hate you for forcing me to go through this, I know that in the long run I'll thank you for this one day. You're all the company I need. I mean besides – you saw what my two best friends couldn't."

"You'll get better," Draco promised her, and this was a promise that he was determined to keep. "I don't know when. And if I have to, I'll move in with you or force you to move in with me so I can keep an eye on you, but you will get better."

"I'll hold you to that," she smiled again. This time it almost reached her eyes. "After all, you do have seven years to make up for."

"I do," he also smiled. "So I'll pay my debt, and help you through this. Together, we'll beat this thing."

I need you to know

I'm not through the night,

Some days I'm still fighting to walk towards the light.

I need you to know

That we'll be okay,

Together we can make it through another day.

A/N: Sorry, I'm an emotional wreck right now. As I've mentioned; this story is personal to me. In a way, I had my own personal Draco help me through something similar to this, before it got in too deep for anyone to notice it. He told me that he had a cousin who went through something similar, but she became hospitalized before anyone noticed, so he saw the signs before even I could. We aren't in love, and we aren't even friends now. He was one of the ones who picked on me, and in the end he paid his due.

I feel like I owe him now though. I mean he did something that he didn't have to do. It was awkward at the end, but we both just sort of laughed about it. I told him I owed him, and he told me that when I finally get one of my damned books published to hook him up with a signed one and then I told him when he makes it to the NBA to hook me up with court side tickets. He went back to being a prick (although he never called me fat anymore) and I went back to my own life. I wasn't one of the friendless bookworms; on the contrary I had lots of friends, but they were mostly either in jail, or knocked up or had kids already, but none of them noticed what I was going through- they always just fell for my lies. And it took my enemy to see through it and to help me out.

I owe him a lot and I dedicate this story to him, although I doubt he'll ever know it exists. And I pray that none of my family members or friends read this story because I'm still not ready for them to know about it. I was 15 when it happened and I'm 21 now, but it doesn't mean I want them to know.

Right… sorry… rambling and going into my personal life, but I just wanted to point out that this is more common most people like to believe. And it can happen to anyone. I mean, I was the somewhat popular girl with the group of friends that no one liked to mess with. I'm the fat girl who holds her head up high and pierced her belly button then showed it off. I'm the girl who can be seen at bonfires and raves on weekends. I'm the girl who had the high GPA in honors classes and who could sometimes be found in the library. I'm the girl who's raising her cousin's kids and has a brother who fights for MMA. I'm the girl with a smile always plastered on her face and spends too much time reading or writing. I'm a Potterhead who claims to not have a life, but I'm also the girl who attempted to starve herself when she was 15 because she was tired of being fat and "ugly."

Anorexia is a serious condition…

As I've said, this story isn't what I normally write, but once I heard this song I just had to do it. And also as I've said, this story is extremely personal to me. If any of you are going through this, please know that you're not alone! If you need anyone to talk to, but you're scared of having someone find out, please… message me; I'll talk to you and I'll help you through it. No one should be alone when it comes down to something like this!

Pau 2-9-12 at 153am